THE ENEMY The night wore on slowly.

Midnight struck, and the cold of the mountain night had reached its maximum chill.

To the ears of the weary patrols there came no sound save the continuous complaint of the waters, a note rising and falling, increasing and decreasing in volume, after the strange fashion of waters carried by the chance vagaries of the air.

At times the sound of the river rose to great volume, again it died down to a low murmur, the voice of a beaten giant protesting against his shackles.

Came two o'clock in the morning, and the guards walked their beats with the weariness of men who have fought off sleep for hours.